Untimely escape
by Mernard
Summary: Sam Lee Ramsey had been living in Raccoon for a short while, for a secret reason nobody must know. Little did he know, the quiet mid-western town had a few secrets of it's own.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first fan fiction. I done this some time ago and I'm unsure as to whether or not to continue. If I recieve positive feedback I probably will. Enjoy.

Chapter 1

In swept a tall figure, about 6' 2" accompanied by the ringing sound of the café bell above the door, and the clumping sounds of the man's tan boots, the snaking laces were hidden by a dark navy pair of jeans, secured by a black belt, although the only thing visible was the shining silver buckle. The rest of the belt was hidden by a dark denim jacket, it a similar colour of his jeans. The jacket hid his .45 ACP Pistol, which in turn, was sandwiched between the jacket and a black T-shirt. He strode further, over to his regular table, the place where he'd sat every day for the past few weeks. The café, 'Bennett's', done decent food, much better than the unidentifiable sludge he made when he attempted the newly discovered death-sport of cookery.

He sat and removed his mirrored shades, the huge ones that state troopers are often seen wearing while cruising along a highway. He rubbed his tired eyes. It was only dusk, and the orange glow of the sunset shone through the café window, both heating one side of his face, and irritating one of his bloodshot eyes. He turned, stretching his somewhat muscular torso and raised his hands behind his head, exhaling loudly. The café was virtually empty. As he turned, he was greeted by the sight of the café owner, a man who he only knew as 'Larry'. He'd assumed the man's surname was 'Bennett' for obvious reasons. He nodded to the aging man. He had to be at least thirty years his major, which would make Larry about fifty to fifty five.  
"Hey Larry..."  
"Sam..." Larry replied with a nod.  
"Quiet tonight, don't ya think?" Sam answered, shooting a quick glance around the deserted café, and Larry shrugged, "Probably have a bit more customers tomorrow..."  
They both nodded, as if they'd been great friends for many years. Larry was just that type of friendly guy, despite the lack of customers, Larry had given meals and drinks to Sam on the house. Sam wasn't sure, perhaps he took pity on him, or maybe because his slight hints of an Irish accent made him seem like a refugee? He didn't care, it was free, although Sam had offered to pay, secretly hoping that Larry actually didn't take the money, he needed it, badly, given his situation.  
"What'll it be tonight then, Sam?" Larry said, after a long silence. Sam shrugged, "Just the usual I suppose". Soon enough Larry had served him his repeated order of orange juice and some toast, to the greeting of Sam flickering his eyes open. He'd dozed off slightly.  
"Uh...oh, thanks..." Sam responded in a slurred way.  
"No problem." Larry said with a kind smile, purposely walking away before the hazy customer could put forward any kind of payment. He looked towards the breakfast food, and lifted the toast, biting into it hungrily. He could eat toast and orange juice at any time, it was like a sort of comfort food. He took a sip of the zesty orange juice, a crumb or two resting on the rim of the glass. He sighed heavily and handled his shades that sat on the table, and glanced out of the window. It would be dark soon, and he really couldn't wait to get back into bed. He rested his head upon the leather of the seat and watched the sun slowly disappear over the distant horizon, it's light gradually sinking behind the buildings, just as his eyes inevitably closed shut gently. Little did he know, it might've been the last sunset he'd ever see.

He woke with a slight moan, lazily at first, then was slightly stiff with fear, after his eyes had refocused, and he realised where he was. His adrenaline was still pumping as he looked out into the darkness beyond the window. It was now night. That didn't make sense, shouldn't Larry have woken him up to kick him out? Perhaps Larry let him sleep. He was nicer than Sam had thought. He looked down to his former meal, his toast cold and hard, his orange juice now warm. He shifted in the leather chair, squeaking slightly as his weight adjusted. It took him a while to realise that he wasn't alone, he was in the company of what appeared to be a young woman, who stood with her back facing him, at the opposite end of the café. _Click Click_. He stood and slowly headed towards her, finally noticing that she was standing in front of the jukebox. That damned thing was always getting stuck.  
"Hey Larry!" he called into the back, glancing at the female every now and then, she still hadn't moved. "Your jukebox is playing up again!" he continued. No response. He rose a brow, that was strange too. Maybe he was out back, getting more supplies from the cellar. He looked at the woman again, before hesitatingly walking around the counter and into the back. The place was eerily quiet, "Larry..." he continued to call. He pushed open the kitchen door, and saw the legs of what appeared to be Larry on the floor, the top half of his body hidden around the corner, "Larry!" he exclaimed and quickly ran, turning the corner, "La..." What he saw nearly made his apparently comforting food come back up.

A bloodied figure was hunched over Larry, his neck apparently ripped open, forming a pool of blood around Larry's balding head, which was also exposed to the elements, eaten open it seemed, a crimson mess within, mixed with a grey pink mush, and most of it smeared over the face which now had turned it's attention to him, it's eyes white and dripping with a unidentifiable fluid, and arms outstretched, grasping for Sam. He stumbled back, glancing down to Larry's helpless body, "J-Jesus..." Sam stuttered. The seemingly dead and bloodied body, shambling towards him. He watched it trip and fall over Larry's corpse. _Do something. Now. _He turned, and made for the door of the kitchen, but he was too late, the crawling cadaver had grabbed his foot. "Urgh..." he said, as he struggled with it, "Get the fuck off me!" he exclaimed, and it opened it's decomposing mouth, ready to take a bite from his foot. He swung his free leg back and hit it disgustingly hard in the face, it's head caving in, and his foot being stuck inside. He felt the grip of the zombie loosen. Upon pulling his tan boot from the creature, he noticed the fabric of the boot had begun to absorb the moisture, changing it from light brown to dark, upon the boot was what appeared to be the remains of the creatures mind, sticky, like toffee or caramel from within a sweet. He stepped away, and leaned over the sink, ready to be violently sick.

After five minutes or so, attempting to recover, it dawned on him that he should do something, this wasn't exactly normal. He closed his eyes, the smell of the decomposing ghoul making his stomach turn. After stumbling out of the kitchen, he lifted the phone behind the counter. Dead. "What the hell?" he whispered to himself. _Click Click. _He looked up with a start, and saw the woman, she was still here? He sluggishly walked towards her, the right boot of his not making such a thumping sound, as he travelled across the wooden floor. As he approached her, he spoke, the clicking sound getting louder, naturally. "Uh...hey lady...you'll have to leave...we're clo-" As he spoke, the 'woman' swirled around, her face looking as if it'd been clawed and torn, her own throat having bite-marks and her torso looking as if it'd been disembowelled. "Agh!" he cried out, as she took a firm grip on him, her mouth opening wide, and a partially chewed finger falling out onto him, he cringed in disgust, now realising that the jukebox wasn't bust at all. Much to his terror, the windows that lined the café seemed to explode, many more shambling figures tumbling through, "Oh Shit!" he said, glancing around, still struggling with the female cannibal. _These things aren't...human._ He was going to become zombie food soon if he didn't escape. He turned his attention to the lady and gripped her back, just as hard, moving his hands to her torn neck, and slammed her head to the left, onto the metal lining and glass on the front of the jukebox, "Get..." he slammed once more, "...off!". Blood dripped from his hands and the selection buttons as she fell, the jukebox now starting to play a rock tune. This was all he needed. With the music blaring and him surrounded by zombies, it was hard to think. He ran for the back door, the zombie back there would hardly give him trouble now. He shoved a Raccoon resident aside, and pushed open the kitchen door, to his horror, there was more zombies, feasting on poor Larry, and more behind them. _God damn it, shit!_ He span around, back into the front of the diner. He was screwed. He slowly began to walk backwards towards a wall as they advanced, still more tumbling through the windows. He felt for the wall behind him, and his hand was met my the touch of fabric instead. _Huh?_ He turned, and remembered that there was access stairs to the second floor, where Larry lived. He pushed the curtains aside and stepped in, taking a final glance at the carnivores, he swept the curtains closed. _Well done Sam, THAT'LL really make a difference_. He climbed the stairs at a running pace, two at a time, and opened the door, slamming it shut, just as he heard the advancing steps of the zombies. He just hoped they didn't figure out how to use doors.

In the meantime, he'd pushed a cabinet against the door, which he'd shifted from Larry's former bedroom. He'd guessed that he'd been trapped here for at least half an hour. He sat, watching out the window, in complete darkness, his pistol clenched in his hand. _How stupid._ He'd forgotten about it completely, he could've shot his way out before too many of them gathered. Luckily, none of his thirty shots had needed to be fired. Yet. He sighed, even more had came for the party, he assumed that it was the loud music that attracted them, but just like not thinking of using his gun, he didn't think of pulling the cord out. There had to be at least thirty, most likely more, and he doubted he was that good of a shot to get thirty headshots. Perhaps he could shoot them once they're in a line, coming up the stairs, getting multiple kills? Or he could let them come up the stairs and around the corner one by one? He sighed, _What if there were more?_ He had this constant nagging, doubting, unbelieving voice going on in his head, constantly telling him, "You're going to die.". He refused to believe it, just like he refused to believe what was happening, but undoubtedly, with an attitude like that, his own scepticism would be his untimely downfall. He had to be strong, to get out of this living hell, but in order to do that, he needed help.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Those bastards!" said the panicked and hurried voice of Darren Skinner, "Why the fuck aren't they stopping?!", he called, again in reference to the transport trucks up ahead and the overbearing noise of the helicopters zooming across the smoke-filled skies. At times becoming invisible within the plumes of ash and dust. He was running within a crowd of other civilians, all screaming, shouting and indeed fighting while making a desperate dash towards what seemed to be an ever accelerating Umbrella truck. It was utter chaos. He glanced behind him, "André!" his wounded friend was having persistent trouble keeping up, and at times, being knocked from side to side, within the gauntlet of survival.

Darren skidded to a stop, a few people desperately pushed past him, and he reached his friend, "C'mon!" Darren cried, as he helped his friend along, they were now nearly at the back of the crowd, and not so far from the advancing legion of zombies behind, to the left and to the right. They seemed to just crawl out of the woodwork, all advancing at once, like a parasite. It was overwhelming. As he helped his friend limp along, they looked upwards, the truck had seemed to stop, although he wasn't sure. He couldn't see over the heads of the crowd as he wasn't particularly tall, he couldn't hear either from the war zone the city was in. They carried on towards the truck.

Gunfire erupted violently, people turned and swarmed back towards Darren and André, knocking them both off balance. Darren fell onto the ground, and shielded himself from the trampling feet of the crowd. He struggled to his feet, keeping his head low among the stampede of people and the hail of gunfire. A woman, fell down, stone dead, from a bullet in her back. He tripped over her and fell flat on his face. "Urgh!" _Where the fuck is the gunfire coming from?_

A cold hand reached down and pulled Darren up. It was André, "Quick...this way..." he said in his Mexican accent, cringing through the pain of his dripping wound. Once he got to his feet, Darren helped André across the wide road towards the closest alley, seeking shelter from the gunfire. The heavy machine guns, placed on top of the tank-like trucks swivelled around, a masked operative firing rapid bursts here and there at the fleeing civilians. A speaker crackled on top of the other trucks, "Return to your homes! Proper extraction will be available ASAP" It repeated.

As they just about made it to the entrance to the alley, André fell over, screaming in pain, "André!" Darren exclaimed, and crouched slightly to help him up, André's arm already around him. The concrete around the walls shattered. More gunfire. He heard the screech of tires as the mobile gun emplacement swerved around the street. Darren dove forward, letting go of André and tumbled further into the alley, where he was safe.

He listened, as he crouched behind the heavy metal dumpster. The truck had sat idly in the street for about ten minutes, and so had he, with André, propped up against the wall behind him. Silently waiting. Soon enough, it drove off, and all was silent. Darren turned to André, he'd been wounded even further, a bullet struck him in the back. Not fatal, but it soon would be. And it was Darren's fault. André spluttered, "Mr Skinner...you are my boss, my friend. You have been very good to me, letting me work in your shop..." He gave another choking cough, "Tell my family, in Mexico...". He went mute. "André?" he nudged him.

For a while Darren sat, leaning against the wall beside his former friend. He looked at his grubby white shirt, stained with blood, sweat and tears. His black pinstripe trousers were torn in places, and just as dirty as his shirt. At least his once shining shoes were comfortable. In all, he'd spent about half an hour in that stinking alley, all he did was sit, doing nothing. Observing the wreckage out in the street but taking nothing of it in. He was in a daze. _I'd better get a move on._ He remained still. _Move._ He slowly began to stand. As he stood, he brushed himself off drearily, sighing somewhat. However, he soon found himself on the ground again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Sam sat alone, bar the ravenous noises of the zombies beyond the stair door. The semi-soft armchair gave a little comfort, if any, given the situation. With the darkness of the room, it carried a certain mustiness smell to it, perhaps because of the various aging items he disturbed while ransacking the upper floor of Bennett's. He'd searched for anything useful, ammo, a gun, a secret exit, anything, but nothing. He tightened his hand on the wooden grip of his pistol, he hadn't fired any. Yet. Although he was contemplating only using one, not for his enemies though.

He glanced up at the door as a splinter flew from it. _Time to go. Now_. He stood and walked to the windows, as if expecting them not to be barred anymore. "God damn it" he muttered, hearing the door cracking and shattering more. The cabinet wouldn't hold them for terribly long. The only places apart from the 'living room' he was in was a small bathroom and a dusty old bedroom, both more or less empty of useful items. He fiddled with the buttons on his open denim jacket. He had got training in how to escape from a prison cell, but this was just different. Way different. None of his training could be depended on in this situation. _Thump. Thump. Crack!_

Arms were now reaching through a large crack in the door. "Okay, fuck this." he said to himself, and aimed the pistol at the window, not knowing what he was going to do once he'd broken the glass. _Bang! Crash! Shatter!_. He fell onto his back, his eyes flickering as he contacted with the ground, and was showered in sparks and glass. The door was broken, and zombies were struggling with the cabinet. He stood up, and quickly brushed himself off. _What the hell was that? _He walked to the window, the bars were all sliced apart, making more than enough room for him to exit. _Huh? Did I do that?._ He glanced behind him, the creatures were making their way over the furniture. _No time to check it out _. He hopped through the window and lowered himself into the street below.

He landed fairly well, bending his legs and straightened himself up. He was now facing inward to the diner, he could see a few zombies milling about through the smashed windows. _Phew_. Just as he turned to walk away, a zombie lurched up at him from below the windowsill, reaching through the window and grabbed him, "Argh!" he exclaimed, it's mouth flapping open, ready to consume. "Get the fuck!" he commanded and stepped backwards forcefully, the zombie now falling forward onto it's head on the sidewalk. He resisted the urge to vomit again, the smell was horrifying. It started to slither towards him, pulling itself across the ground. "Good fucking luck, you bastard." he said spitefully at the crawling cadaver.

He stepped out across the road, only now he could hear the screams of the citizens, smell the death, and feel the fear. _The...whole city?_ He could see blood drenched sidewalks, crashed cars, and emerging from some alleys, more of _them_ emerged. "Shit." he said with a sigh, and with a hint of anxiety. "This won't be easy." he said, speaking to himself, it seemed to reassure him, just to keep him calm and focused. Like when he was home, he could remember it now, watching through the scope, laying on the rooftop.

"Just a little more you shit." were his words, and soon after, a silenced shot travelled through the air and connected with the target's head. A smug "Heh" escaped his lips as he saw the seemingly 'innocent' man fall, a small cloud of mist leaving his nostrils as he sighed in satisfaction. He packed up his rifle. His good deed for his country was done for today. Walking down the stairs, he whistled, murmuring a faint lyric.

Those days were gone, it seemed. Now he was stuck, in a dangerous situation, with a new kind of fear looming at him in all different directions. He'd have to survive. He always did.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Darren emitted an audible sigh, he was still scruffy, which annoyed him. He always wanted to look presentable. Time to go. He nodded to himself and turned around, to take one last glance at his dead companion. "André!" he exclaimed as he struggled with him to the ground, the corpse of his friend now trying to devour him. "Get away!" he cried, as he pushed André away, or attempted to. It was futile. The zombie was pushing all his weight down on Darren. He shielded his face and neck with his arms, André lunged once more.

"Arrrghhh!" he screamed, as the zombie sunk it's teeth into his forearm and it pulled it's head back, ripping his flesh and muscle in a spray of crimson blood. Darren cringed and tried to push, but the pain was too much, his own blood squirted over himself and André. The creature moved downwards for another mouthful. _Bang!_

"Nooo!" Darren squealed as the zombie slumped over him, the contents of it's brain pouring over him. It took him a few seconds to realise it wasn't tearing into his chest. He pushed it off him in a hurry and crawled back, looking at his now bloodied attire, his hands dripping of blood, his own and Andre's. "You were lucky I turned up…" said a defiant female voice. Darren looked up with a start, he was still dazed and confused. High heels clicked across the ground, over the broken glass and blood, "Are you hurt?" the voice asked. Darren didn't answer. She shook him. He blinked several times and looked up to a woman with shoulder length red hair, dyed red it would seem, and tied into a ponytail. Her own dark eyes looked into his baffled ones. "Well answer me, damn it!" she said frustratingly. Darren's eyes opened wider as he 'woke up' and gripped his bleeding arm.

"Arghhh, my god!" he shrieked, "My arm!". Blood was pouring out of it. "Let me see…" she 'asked', while she held it in her own silky hands. "It's pretty deep" she said to herself more than anybody, Darren was in a lot of pain. "Don't worry, I'll stop the bleeding…" she assured, and reached into a small pocket of what seemed to be a utility belt. Out came some bandages and antiseptic, she began to tend to his wounds.

A while later, Darren seemed to calm down, she'd done a good job for just a survivor, although he didn't know anything about her. He looked at her clothes, a pale green raincoat, dark blue tank top, grey camo trousers and boots. "You're certainly suited to the job." he commented as she treated him, nodding to her utility belt and general attire. She smiled slightly, "I was training in the army, I guess that's to blame for my dress sense, and this…" she tapped the belt with a bloodied finger, "I found it in the back of an R.P.D. S.W.A.T. Van". He nodded, "Thanks…if it weren't for you I'd be dead." He stood to his own feet. "It's not a problem." she replied  
"So, you live here?" Darren asked.  
"Yeah, here all my life, and you?"  
"Same. So what's the plan?" he asked, being a little ambitious to invite himself to tag along with this woman.  
"I heard on a police radio that there's gonna be an evac chopper on the library roof, it's not terribly far, and we could make it if we hurry.."  
Darren arched an eyebrow, "An Evac chopper huh?" he felt some hope growing. "How could we make it to there?"  
"I got my gun." The woman held up her 9mm pistol, "Like I said, if we hurry it'll be a doddle. Let's go." She said confidently.  
"What about me? How am I supposed to protect myself?" Darren protested.  
"Well…" she began, "Your arm's pretty fucked, I'm assuming you're right handed as you used it to protect yourself, even if I did have a gun, you'd have to use your left hand, and when under pressure, considering your build and your response to that bite you've got, you'd have trouble even shooting with your good arm. Best idea is to let me go first." she smiled and walked on ahead.  
Darren felt slightly put out, but she was right, he followed after her, "You certainly know your stuff…" he complimented.  
"I just speak my mind.", she replied somewhat passively while she kept a look out as they carried on with much haste. "Can I know your name now?" he asked with a smile. He pulled at his bandage slightly.  
"Don't fidget!" she said, noticing his irritation. "The name's Ruth, you are?" she said, moving her glance back to the nearby shadows.  
"Darren…pleased to meet you." he said with a grin.  
"Mhm"  
The night was now getting bitterly cold. Darren looked at his bloodied watch, he scraped the dried blood off the glass face with disgust using his nails, only to see it had stopped. "Perfect.". He sighed again and looked upwards at the sky, smoke from the devastation which had befallen the city shielded the full moon. Periodically some of the pale light shone through to illuminate their dull and dank surroundings. The creature's moans grew fainter and fainter as they proceeded.

She stopped. Her head slowly turned, arching up and down, left and right. Darren looked at her bemusedly and crept closer to her, and whispered in her ear, "What is it?"  
"Shh!" she replied viciously. _Click Click Click._ Now Darren looked around nervously at the shadows, "C'mon, let's go, this is freaking me out…" he pleaded. She didn't move. _Click._ Her eyes widened and her grip tightened as something swooped from above.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Not far away, Sam was also plodding through puddles, his own boots, and those of another, behind him were getting soaked. "Where are we going?" asked a male voice, for what seemed to be the one hundredth time. Sam didn't answer, Rick would just have to wait, or try and remember what Sam said the last time.

They came to the end of the alley, and Sam poked his head out cautiously. It was near silent, the only sounds that could be heard were the faded cries of the flesh-eating monstrosities and Sam and Rick's steady breaths. _This is wrong_. "Why aren't they all over the place?" Sam muttered. He looked up and down the street once more, a roadblock at one end. "Alright. Let's go." He clenched his pistol and slipped out into the road, Rick in tow. "I asked where we are going." Rick continued. Sam stopped in the middle of the street and turned to him,  
"Jesus. How many times do I have to tell you? Are you sure all that boxing hasn't done some permanent damage to your head?"  
Rick resented that, sure he was a lightweight boxer, but he wasn't dumb. "You aren't very specific, and it's the same goddamn answer each time!"  
"Then why do you expect it to be anything different each time you ask? We are going wherever we can."  
"Oh, that's great, let's just walk about with no fucking plan. I'd be better off by myself"  
Rick was growing tired of Sam, and vice-versa. "Fine, you go ahead, go and have some fisticuffs with those cannibals and whatever godforsaken creatures that are crawling about out there!"  
"Fuck you, man" was all that Rick could manage, as he turned and began to walk away from Sam.  
"Same to you. Should have fucking left you where I found you."

A foot or two ahead of Rick's pace, a spark appeared, accompanied by a loud bang coming from the open end of the street. It was another one of those Umbrella trucks, and it was speeding towards them, opening fire. Rick jumped back, and ran towards Sam, who was now at the mouth of the opposite alley "C'mon!" Sam shouted as he watched Rick sprint towards him, a trail of light and metal quickly following. Rick dove into the alley, his tank-top getting stained and wet, and rolled to his feet. At the same time, Sam was just turning around, to head back out into the street. The other end of the alley was now blocked by another van. He soon skidded to a stop and retreated. They were trapped. "This way!" Rick exclaimed, and forced his body into a door, near the exit of the alley, and it fell through with the force. His chin hit the tiled floor with a thud. Sam dove through the open doorway, nearly landing on Rick, as gunfire from both ends rattled around the alley. They both got up as the back doors of the first truck swung open, and six heavily armed Umbrella personnel swarmed out into the alley, and strategically positioned themselves near the doorway.

"Alright people." Said the muffled voice of the leader, although it could be heard perfectly by his team-mates by their own earpiece. Gasmasks concealed their identity, they were all in uniform, the Umbrella logo emblazoned on their backs. "We got two heat signatures" continued the leader, as he read off the data displayed by what would seem to be a small computer he held. "We don't want to take any chances. Shoot on sight."  
"Yes sir." they replied, and moved into the old apartment building.

Both Sam and Rick rushed up the stairs, the dim fluorescent lights flickering, only adding to the confusion and panic. "Shit shit shit!" cried Rick, "What the fuck is going on?!"  
Sam silenced him, "Shut up, I've got a fair idea, but now's not the time." he hissed. They ran down the corridor of the fourth floor, and turned a corner. Sam stopped and unholstered his .45 ACP pistol, checking the magazine, he pressed himself up against the wall, peeking his head around the corner. Rick stopped to look at him, "What're you doin' man!?" Sam glanced over at him, "We can't keep running, eventually they'll corner us, and find out how defenceless we are. Besides, if I'm gonna die, I ain't gonna make it a walkover for them." Rick stood silently in agreement, although he was beginning to find this character a bit suspicious, he seemed to know what he was doing for a tourist. His appearance was plausible, he looked, and spoke like any other guy. Under pressure, he was different, a totally different person in fact. Sam glanced back around at Rick, "What are you doing? Get at least something to put up a fight, I doubt those 'guns' of yours will prove sufficient." he nodded at his arms. Rick nodded, despite the hateful comment also delivered. He looked to a nearby box. It was red and dusty, and inside gleamed a shiny fire axe. Rick smirked and elbowed the glass, as well as a new fire axe, he also received some cuts and grazes as a result. Sam span around and whispered scathingly, "Do you want them to find us? Jesus Christ!" he motioned to the broken glass. He returned to his position, keeping watch of the corridor. There was the possibility that half halves of the team assaulted the corridor from both ends, not just the end they'd used, but Sam didn't want to box himself in just yet.

Once Rick had finished making a few 'whooshy' swing tests with his new weapon, while at the same time, imitating the sound with his lips, he looked towards Sam again. A few red spots had appeared on his back, the denim coat was stained with blood. Rick raised a brow, and opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Sam, "This place looks abandoned, which is a good thing and a bad thing…"  
Rick spoke, "Hey…man." he begun, still gazing at the back of Sam's coat.  
"The good thing is, no freaks to hinder us. Bad thing is, no freaks to hinder those assholes. Seems that we're the only people in here."  
"Man…" Rick persisted.  
"What?" Sam whispered angrily.  
"You hurt?"  
"Huh? No…why?"  
Rick poked him in the back, "You got red on you." Sam turned around to face Rick and twisted his jacket, so that he could see the stain, "Oh…yeah. Don't know where that came from, probably got splattered onto me when I was shooting those zombies earlier." he surmised. Rick raised a brow sceptically, "On your back?"  
Sam sighed irritably, "I don't bloody know" As he spoke, another spot appeared on his left shoulder. Rick pointed at it, "Another one." Sam looked at it with a furrowed brow. Rick glanced upward, and saw what appeared to be a semi-human with no skin, and exposed brain, and fresh blood dripping off it's extended tongue. "Fuck…" is all Rick could manage between them, as by now Sam was looking up, and it was also all he could say before he was knocked to the floor by it, with it resting on top of him. Sam had jumped back as it swung down, and into the direct line of fire of the Umbrella soldiers, "Shit!" and he moved around the corner again. Bullets fired, and the corridor was in darkness, some of the fluorescent lights now flickering faster. Splinters flew, plaster cracked and broke, sparks cascaded all around as the lights blew. Suddenly he was back there again, the day where everything could have went wrong, did.

He packed up his rifle. His good deed for his country was done for today. Walking down the stairs, he whistled, murmuring a faint lyric. He stepped back onto the corridor silently from the stair access roof, still in high spirits, hidden by his shades. Behind him, an authority-filled voice boomed, "Don't move, police!" his head quickly turned to snatch a quick look, but not as fast as his feet ran. He saw SWAT personnel, and as they saw him move, they squeezed the trigger, a number of 9mm bullets seared towards Sam. He dove through the doorway and rolled, the cold, hard metal cracking the doorway and wall. He continued regardless, his own pistol now drawn, aimlessly moving through the corridors, residents of the apartment block coming out to see what the commotion was. "Get back inside!" he shouted, for fear of the job becoming even more messy. He ducked his head down as he heard more gunfire behind him, even though the corridor hadn't completely cleared of civilians. _Bastards_. 

Abruptly, he was jolted back into the real world, reality, by real gunfire, with the potential of killing him stone dead. He looked to Rick, struggling with the mutated creature, but the soldiers were approaching. _Damn. Decision time._ He moved to the corner, and fired a few blind shots. Rick would have to deal with it for now. He fired a little more, managing to hit a few of them successfully, but only wounding them. With less luck, Rick was struggling with the beast. He was strong enough, and so he held it back, at least it couldn't take a bite out of him. However, it hissed, and it wrapped is long tongue around his neck, choking him. It stood over him, asphyxiating him, killing him. He stopped holding it back and reached for it's exposed brain, digging his fingers hard into it "Fucker." Rick spluttered. It screeched and relented backwards, knocking into Sam, as he was reloading. He fell over, at the knees of the soldiers. Rick scrambled backwards, grabbing the axe in the dim, rapidly flickering light. Sam put his hands up as they approached. Rick stood and swung out at the mid-section of the now standing long-tongued freak. At the same time, there was an almighty flash. Sam shielded his eyes. It came from behind the soldiers. As the creature fell to the ground, cut in half, so did all the soldiers, jugulars sliced, heads torn off. Even after the flash, Sam couldn't see, but when he could he couldn't believe what he saw. Rick moved to Sam, still on his knees, and shook him by the shoulder, "Hey, man…" he realised that they weren't shot, and wondered why. He looked down the corridor, seeing it strewn with bodies, spurting blood and missing organs. "Woah! I didn't know you could do _that_!" they both looked at each other. Deeply confused.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Darren sluggishly continued through an alley, clutching his forearm. At least the bleeding had stopped, but it was stinging, and Darren was getting hot, it was as if he had a fever. He tasted his dry mouth, he was desperate for water. The iron pole he was carrying in his right hand seemed to get heavier and heavier. Eventually, his dizziness overcame him and he slumped down against a wall, and his eyes slowly closed.

"Hello?" called a voice, barely audible, as if in the distance. "Are you okay?" asked a man, who was now visible to Darren. He was dressed in black, completely geared up with ammo pouches and hundreds of pockets. He looked into the man's face again as he spoke. He had Asian features, dark hair, but spoke with an American accent. "Are you okay?" he asked for the third time. Darren could barely answer, "I want water…". The unknown man took out a canteen and brought it to his lips, and Darren drank thirstily. The man removed the canteen and looked at the man's forearm, "You're wounded…" Darren looked at the man's expressions, "It's okay, I got a bandage…" the man questioned again, "Did you apply that yourself?", Darren paused, and squinted his eyes, as if an attempt to remember, "No…someone I met helped me, but we got separated…"  
"Where is this 'someone' now?"  
"I…don't know, we got attacked. I wouldn't worry about her, she seemed as if she could handle herself."  
"Oh, I see…" he replied. Darren studied him more, he was obviously not a civilian, he could be with the police, but it didn't look like it. He tightened his grip on the iron pole discreetly and asked, "So, who are you?". The man looked back up at Darren's face, "I'm Li." a small name tag confirmed this. "I was with the Umbrella Strike Team." Darren immediately swung the pole at Li's head, as he was crouching to him. Li quickly raised his hand and gripped the pole. "Calm down! Are you deaf, I said I was with them, not anymore." He pulled the pole from Darren. "You bastards! You killed all those people! Shot down innocents!" Darren was now hysterical, "I said calm down" Li said soothingly,  
"Let me explain. I joined up under false pretences, I was told my job was to help contain the virus if an outbreak occurred. I didn't know until I was out in the field that I was going to be ordered to shoot civilians, but it's the only measure to keep this city quarantined."  
"Virus?" Darren questioned. "Yes, an experimental virus for military use created by Umbrella Inc. has infected the city, it's created all these monsters. We were told very little other than it's contagious and can be transferred by a bite or scratch." Li replied, and at the same time looking at Darren's wound, "How did you get that?" Darren paused, "I was bitten…Am I infected?" Li shook his head, "I don't know, we weren't told the symptoms or anything. Since it's been bandaged and cleaned, the virus mightn't take effect." They both remained silent, thoughts running through their head, paranoia taking over slowly.

Finally Darren asked, "You were with the strike team? You must have guns then." Li once again shook his head, "I used to…we were dispatched to a building not far from here, to take care of a 'threat'. My team was wiped out. I can't even remember what happened, we were attacked, and I must have got knocked on the head or something…" he rubbed his forehead with his fingerless gloves, "When I woke, most of my ammo and weaponry was gone, so were my team-mate's. All I have is my pistol, a few clips of ammunition and an incendiary grenade ." Darren sighed, "Once fuck-up after another…" Li nodded. Darren continued, "The woman I was with beforehand said that there was an evac chopper on the library roof."  
"I never heard anything like that." Li said sceptically.  
"It was on a police scanner, so you probably didn't" Darren protested, "We could try, unless you have any better ideas?". Li thought for a second, "Okay, we could try that." he helped Darren to his feet and pushed his pistol into Darren's hand, "Here, you take that. Never liked guns, I'd do more damage with this." he held up the iron pole, "Let's go. Can you walk by yourself?" Darren nodded, "Yeah, I'll just stay back." he gripped the gun and followed Li.

They approached the end of the alley, and as they did, something watched them from above, and slowly crept down the wall, edging closer. _Click Click_. Li paused just before the mouth of the alley, and his eyes moved around in his head, searching for the source of the noise. Darren stopped too, a heavy sense of reoccurrence washing over him. Li glanced upwards just as the multiple-legged creature decided to dive downwards. He jumped back, and called to Darren, "Stay back!". Darren obliged and slowly stepped backwards, before turning around and seeing another one at the end of the alley. They were trapped. Meanwhile, Li had stepped forward to the monster, it had six legs with claws at the end of each. It 'stood' up on it's two hind legs and squealed, advancing towards Li at a quick speed. He skilfully forced one end of the pole into it's midsection, and kept it at a safe distance. He glanced behind him to check if Darren was fine. Upon seeing the second creature, he yelled above the squealing of the first, "Shoot at it!". Darren had froze, but Li's voice was more than enough to defrost him. He raised the high-calibre pistol and fired several rounds, gradually pushing the monster back as it screeched. Li was kept busy by the monster's 'hooks' swiping furiously out at his arms as he held the pole. In a blur, he swung the pole around, so that the opposite end of it hit the creature's 'head' and made it stumble back. Li stepped forward and stamped on one of the creature's limbs, making it stay in place while it was dazed, and swung the pole rapidly back and forth, hitting the creature's torso and head many times.

Darren's gun clicked, it was empty, "I'm out!" he exclaimed, Li glanced behind him, briefly seeing the second monster recovering. He quickly shoved his pole back into the creature, stepped off it's leg, gripped the pole harder and rolled backwards, the creature flying off the pole and heading down the alley. Darren narrowly avoided the flying monster by pressing himself against the alley wall, and turned his head to see it colliding with the second monster. As Li came to his feet, he tore the incendiary grenade from his clothing and threw it down after the monstrosity. Darren and Li hurried out of the alley to hear the two creatures exploding into flames.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Cold sweat dripped from Darren's head as he and Li hurried up the stairs of the library. The dull hum of the copter could be heard even inside the building. It seemed that they had finally made it, with Li practically carrying Darren most of the way. They had spotted the copter on the library and managed somehow to attract a man's attention. Darren was getting worse every second, hopefully with it being an extraction chopper, they also knew of a cure. He had little time.

"C'mon, not far now" Li reassured Darren, he was more or less dragging him down the corridor. Li had found it strange that he hadn't heard about the chopper himself, but after all, a chopper was a chopper, and the staircase in front of them was their last step in escaping this nightmare. They scaled it speedily, and pushed open the door, the sound of the copter hitting them, as well as the air it created from it's rotors spinning. A few armed men helped them up the ramp into the back of what seemed to be a large cargo copter, where someone was waiting.

"Ruth!" Darren cried, "You're alive…" he said happily. She stood from where she was sitting and walked towards Darren, who was sitting limply, "I could say the same thing about you…" she said with a smile. She looked at Li, and he nodded back, "This is the woman you were talking about earlier?" he asked Darren, and he nodded, "Yeah, it's her.". Ruth and Li looked at each other and exchanged pleasantries.

The roof access door burst open once again and two men appeared, and slammed the door behind them. Heavily armed it would seem. The gas masked copter men aimed their weapons at them, and disarmed them. "Hey hey, there's something chasin' us man, we gotta get out of here!" one of them exclaimed. They both boarded, and so did the rest of the soldier-esque men, the ramp pulled up and the copter took off.

The five survivors all emitted an audible sigh of relief as the copter flew over the smoke-ridden city, and Darren moaned in pain. "Hey…" said one of the two men, "This guy is wounded, haven't you guys got anything?" The man's dark denim jacket was splattered with blood as it was, even he looked wounded. Li moved to Darren to try and reassure him.

Suddenly a voice resounded throughout the chopper, it came from the front, "Mr. Sam Lee Ramsey, so caring, aren't you?" The man in the denim jacket stood and turned his head, and his eyes couldn't believe what he was seeing. His mind flashed back, on the roof, he saw the bullet hit his head…

"Pity you didn't care so much for those people in the apartment block…" he sneered with his English accent. Sam rushed forward for the man, the soldiers aimed their machine guns at him, and the main raised his own gun. "Now now, I should be the angry one, after all, you were the one that killed me…"

"I obviously didn't do a good enough job." Sam replied, his face ridden with hate. "Quite true…" the man began, "Although Umbrella can do wonders these days. If it wasn't for them I wouldn't be standing here aiming my pistol at your head." he grinned,  
"Oh, how sweet it would be to pull the trigger…"  
"Do it then." Sam replied coldly.  
"Alas, I cannot, for I need you to help me with something…"  
Rick stood up, and one of the soldiers pointed his machine gun at him, "Woah, woah, I'd just like to know…what the _fuck_ is going on?"  
The man looked at him, "Oh, so sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I am Arthur Beldingford."  
"Formerly Peter Hanson" Sam interrupted. Arthur smirked, "Yes, well, that's back when I was 'alive'. As I was saying, Ramsey here 'killed' me in a sense, too many witnesses, so 'Peter Hanson' the politician was dead."  
"But lucky for you, you were working for Umbrella even back then." Sam interrupted again, "It didn't seem to much of a big deal when I was looking through your dossier."  
Arthur nodded, "Yes, my job was to influence the British Government in favour of Umbrella, just to make things easier. Unfortunately, it would seem, I ruffled a few feathers of you and your friends, Ramsey…" he flashed his smirk once again.

"Anyway…" he began, "This little job I have for you…"


End file.
